Cameron Redgate and the Consulting Detective
by ellie-hiddlebatch
Summary: Cameron Redgate, a 14 year old American Foreign Exchange student hosted by Mrs. Hudson, goes on numerous adventures with Sherlock and John. Co-Written with my friend. R R please!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: 221

Amidst the hustle-and-bustle of the airport, I scan the crowd for the sign bearing my name. Wandering through, I finally spot the words "Cameron Redgate" printed neatly on a white piece of paper. I make my way through the crowd toward the sign to find a frail woman holding it. She looks far too old to be my host, but I figure, why else would she be holding a sign with my name on it?

"Are you Cameron?" she asks nicely. Her voice is little.

"Yeah," I say. "You're Mrs. Hudson?"

"Yes!" She hugs me delicately, as if I'm a china doll that could easily break. "Welcome to London! Hate to rush it, but we have to get back to my place. And I have a doctor's appointment, but you can stay and get acquainted with some friends of mine that live in the flat above us."

"Alright," I say, eager to meet people without having to find them on my own. Socializing is not my forte.

"So how was your flight?" Mrs. Hudson asks me eagerly as we enter the taxi.

"Good," I say. "Fine. Normal."

"That's good." We sit in silence for a few minutes.

"Well, my friends are detectives. One's pretty quiet, but the other- well, he's very eccentric. Not a terrible person or anything, no, but he's not quite- human. But there's not really a good way to explain him, you'll see when you meet him."

"Oh. Are they-" I pause, trying to put the term 'gay' in the most polite way possible.

"They say they aren't, but we all have our suspicions…"

"Right. So we're in downtown London?"

"Yes. 221A Baker Street. Here it is," she says as the cab halts at a black door. The door's knocker is off center. Fighting the impulse to correct it, I step inside.

"This way, dear," Mrs. Hudson says, directing me forward. "Here's my flat, I'll show you your room."

She leads me to a room painted a sky blue, featuring a white bedspread and matching curtains. It's smaller than what I had at home- just a little- but it was a good size for me for a year.

"Make yourself at home, Cameron, feel free to decorate it however you'd like, and then you can head into the kitchen, which is right down the hallway which we came in." She leaves me to unpack in peace.

I get out my luggage and change out of my airport outfit into some sweatpants from my old middle school and an old church tee shirt. I put my suitcase on the floor and get out my bag of room stuff. Making sure I don't end up tearing the paint off the wall, I put up my three favorite posters from home. I also place a framed picture of my family on the vanity and one of my friends and I on the dresser. I tape a photobooth set of pictures of my boyfriend and I on the mirror. Finally, I feel at home. Putting on my old, worn, knock-off ugg boots on, I walk to Mrs. Hudson's kitchen.

"Great, Cameron, just in time!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I have to go to a doctor's appointment about my hip, and I assume that you'd rather not go, _or_ have nothing to do, so you can head upstairs. I'll go with you, of course," she adds, as if I wouldn't want to go."

"Alright," I say.

We walk up the steps to be greeted by a tall-ish, skinny man with dark, curly hair typing on a computer.

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asks.

"Yes?" he says. His voice is deep and smooth, it sounds like a panther inside a cello.

"This is Cameron, she's a foreign exchange student from America. Are you and John free to, well, you know, get acquainted? New neighbors generally do that," she says.

"Talk to John."

"Hi, Mrs. Hudson," another (shorter) man says, who can only be John. "Sorry, I don't think I know you," he says to me.

"I'm Cameron," I say, "I'm a foreign exchange student from America."

"Oh, nice! How old are you?"

"14. I got a lot of credits in middle school."

"Oh. Well, I'm John."

"Is it ok if she stays here for a little bit? I've got an appointment about my hip," Mrs. Hudson asks.

"Sure, sure," John says. "Feel free to have a seat."

I sit on a couch in front of a trellis-patterned wallpaper, a yellow smiley face painted on it. There's holes the size of bullets piercing the middle of it.

"Alright, I'll be back in an hour or two. Thanks, John, Sherlock."

"No problem, Mrs. Hudson."

"Would you like some tea?" John asks me after Mrs. Hudson shuts the door.

"Sure," I say.

"So, where in America are you from? John asks.

"About an hour from Chicago," I say.

"Nice, do you go there often?"

"I went about once or twice a year with my family," I said. "But when I visit them over Christmas, that's where we're heading for the week."

"Oh, that's great," he says, bringing me the cup of tea.

"Thank you," I say, taking the tea.

"No problem."

"So," I say, changing the subject, "Mrs. Hudson told me a few things about you two."

"Really?" John says. "Doesn't surprise me. What did she say?"

"That you two solve crimes."

"Well, _he_ solves them. I'm more of an assistant."

"Oh. You do that a lot, then?"

"It's his profession, really, but I blog about it," he says. "So, yeah, I guess that we do it a lot. But I'm a doctor, I work at a clinic."

"Oh, nice," I say. "So you guys are basically a private eye...service...thing."

"Consulting detective," says Sherlock, briefly looking up from what he's typing. "Made the job myself."

"Oh."

"The police consult with us frequently."

"But I thought that the police couldn't consult with private detectives."

"I'm not an average detective."

"Oh, God, Sherlock," John says, "are you going to go off again?"

Sherlock pouts.

"No, you've got me interested now," I say.

"Well, I can see from you right now that you took the latest plane possible to get here by now. You straightened your hair, it's naturally curly, not unlike mine. You used to have two cats and you play piano. You are from the Midwestern United States, one sister, in a relationship." He pops the p at the end of the word 'relationship'.

"How did you-"

"You just recently got out of a taxi, within 30 minutes ago, as you've got a little bit of hair in your lipgloss that can only be in that position if you've recently got out of the wind. That means that you just got off a plane maybe an hour ago. Your hair has a dent in the back where you wouldn't be able to see. It looks perfectly straight in the front. Your sweatpants have cat hair of both black and golden colored cats on them. Your hands are playing piano scales on your lap. Your accent and dialect indicate that you're from the Midwest, and your pants are over 3 years old, but they're a middle school's pants, and middle schools only go for three years, and these aren't a boy's pants, so they were your sister's. And your phone's lock screen, which you checked while John was making your tea, was a picture of you and a boy acting incredibly flirtatious with each other." He says all of this in one breath.

"Amazing!"

A knock on the door interrupts me. "Come in," John says.

A silver haired man enters. "There's been a murder. Unknown cause of death as of right now, probably a self induced drug, but the crime scene suggests that someone else was there. We need your help."

Sherlock gets up, John following. "You want to come with?" John says.

"And watch you two solve a murder? Of course!" I say.

"Amazing, indeed!" Sherlock mutters as he puts on a large, black coat and a bulky purple scarf. We head out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So this was my friend's chapter, please no hate! It's a little short, but I read it and it's fantastic! Love y'all!**

A black taxi cab takes us to the scene of the crime. As we exit the cab, Sherlock does some sort of jump, and heads straight to the scene. He examines nearly everything in it, making various movements with his hands. John just stands watching, taking notes for his blog. I start to walk over to Sherlock. My curiosity needs to know what he's observing. As soon as John notices where I'm off to, he catches up with me and says, "Don't bother Sherlock while he's working."

Sherlock appears and stares as if he knows exactly what we were talking about, which I'm sure he does.

"I'm finished."

"Well?" John and I say in unison.

"This scene is in fact, both a suicide, and a murder."

"How?" I asked, John looking at me as if I was stealing his job.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No," everyone in the room answered.

"Looking at this man's corpse I see a hand with no trace of a ring, single. Not only is this man single but he is also a lonely, depressed man, an alcoholic, hence the beer stains on the shirt, and the cases in the fridge. However, if you look around the room you will find many examples of both organized and messy areas. This suggests bipolar personality. To prove this, I simply went to the bedroom where I found two different styles of clothing. This man has both the clothes of a drunken underemployed man, and a formal man, proving the fact that this man is indeed severely bipolar. Since his two personalities are entirely different, it suggests that they would despise each other if found out. In simpler terms, they murdered themselves."

Not believing Sherlock, the police called their record holder to look up the dead man's medical records, only to find medical records telling of the man's severe bipolar disorder, and how both personalities were told of the disorder in different sessions, and each reacted very badly.

Sherlock, now both bored and satisfied, calls a cab and we head back to 221B.

Now in the flat, I decide to ask Sherlock about some peculiar things I noticed, simply to make conversation.

"So," I begin awkwardly, "why the smiley face and the holes in the wall?"

"I get bored, those are bullet holes. If you knew more you would easily be able to see so too, considering that as I look at them right now I can identify that they were .4 ml rounds, fired by a series 23 handgun made in Austria, along with many other guns"

"Right. So, do you do anything else?"

"I play the violin, if that's what your looking for."

"Really? Could you play me something?"

"Sorry, Catherine?"

"Cameron"

"Right. Cameron...isn't that a boys name? Well those silly Americans...I only play when I need to."

"Okay."

"What do you know! Mrs. Hudson's home! Go get the door for her." I leave, knowing he was bored with me. The last thing I hear is him asking John for a new case, and John blabbering on in my defense. _Thanks, John. So nice of you,_ I think.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry that it's been a while since I've written anything, I'm going to be a lot better at writing more frequently hopefully :) sorry it's so short, but please enjoy! -Ellie**

**"****So what's the most interesting thing that's happened to the two of you?"**

**"****John seems to find it interesting that everyone thinks we're-"**

**"****Sherlock!"**

**"****-gay. John, it's nearly all you talk about and frankly, it's annoying."**

**"****Yes, I'm the annoying one," John says sarcastically as he opens his computer. **

**"****Are you blogging?" I ask. **

**"****Yeah. I need a title, though. Any ideas?"**

**"****No, no, not really."**

**"****Okay." **

**We sit in awkward silence for many minutes until Mrs. Hudson enters and sees me sitting in the couch. "Hello, Cameron," she says. "Had a good time, then?"**

**"****Yeah," I say, "Yeah, I did." **

**"****You two didn't take her to any murder scenes, now, did you?"**

**"****Oh, ****_no_****, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said. "Of course not."**

**"****Good."**

**"****We took her to a suicide scene."**

**"****Oh my.. Sherlock! She's 14, she doesn't have to see all this…"**

**"****Mrs. Hudson, it's fine. My dad committed suicide after he shot my mom. I'm used to death."**

**"****Oh… Oh, Cameron…"**

**"****I'm over it, really. I swear."**

**"****Cameron, I'm so sorry. When did this happen?"**

**"****I was 2. So I don't really remember. But my sister was fourteen, so she was pretty affected. She's depressed now, but she's doing better. We lived with my grandma until Marilyn went to college, and then I lived with my aunt until now, because my grandma passed away. She was 94," I add, so as not to make them feel too sorry for me, "so it's not all that tragic. But Grandma really did a lot for me." **

**"****I remember that." **

**We all turn. "What?"**

**"****Read about it."**

**Silence falls. **

**"****So, Cameron, ready to go to bed? It's nearly eleven."**

**"****Sure. Night, Sherlock, John, nice meeting you guys."**

**"****Nice meeting you, too," John says, closing the door behind us. **

**I take a shower, Mrs. Hudson's fluffy bathrobe soothing my scummy skin before I get in. After the shower, I check my phone to find a text from Marilyn. **

**_How's England?_**

**_Marilyn_**

**I eagerly text back. **

**_fine_**

**She responds almost immediatley. **

**_Met anyone new?_**

**_Marilyn_**

**_yeah. but they arent my age, theyre adults_**

**_Oh. Well, at least you've met people. Are they nice?_**

**_Marilyn_**

**_nice enough_**

**_That's nice. My phone is about to shut down, so I'll talk to you later. Glad to know that you're doing okay._**

**_Marilyn_**

**_you too_**

**I plug my phone into the wall, my phone resting on the plain nightstand in Mrs. Hudson's guest room, and I slowly drift off to sleep. **

**The next morning, I awaken by the beams of sunlight coming through my window. I get up and shuffle to the kitchen, where Mrs. Hudson is making tea. **

**"****Morning!" she greets cheerfully. **

**I yawn. "Morning."**

**"****I made some tea, here you go." **

**"****Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," I say, taking a sip. The tea is piping hot. **

**"****So since all the schools have the week off this week, and you don't have too much with you," Mrs. Hudson says, "how about we go shopping today? My treat."**

**"****Sure," I say, "I'd love to go!" **

**"****Great," she says, putting her teacup on the counter beside the sink, "let's plan to leave around ten." I check the time on my phone. 9:08. Perfect. **

**I get dressed in a hurry, slipping on a pair of blue jeans, a nice, aztec-printed shirt, and some boots with a three inch heel that make me about the same height as Sherlock. Ready, I wait in the kitchen. **

**"****Alright," Mrs Hudson said, after five minutes, "Let's go, then."**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: OHMYGOD IT'S BEEN SO LONG. I'm so so so so sorry, Johanna and I have both been super busy and have not been able to update until now... but here you go! :)-Ellie**

We get to a store that is made up of multiple floors and seems to be some sort of a mall. Mrs. Hudson decides she needs to pick up some clothes in a much more old-fashioned store than any teenager would ever want to step into and left me to observe and make friends or conversation. Of course, I'm not planning on that. I figure I'll just eat the chips and scope around to see if anything looks interesting. I begin my scope only to see a familiar figure walking at a fast pace, his companion at his side. Could it be? Yes. It was Sherlock. I tell the man at the counter handing out the chips that if an old lady came by asking for Cameron, to tell her she went off to the crime scene to see Sherlock and John. The man looks at me with the strangest face, but I'm pretty sure he will deliver. And so I walk on to find... Sherlock walking into a clothing store with John? No police? No nothing? I decide to follow them, hiding behind the racks of men's clothing. After watching John go through a series of suits, and Sherlock follow him discontentedly, I begin to think the two were just... shopping. I will admit, it is a strange sight… and then Sherlock grabs a scarf. He buys the scarf. I want to slap myself on the head, as they were both normal people, both were likely to go shopping. Just because they were out and about did not mean they were on a case. I looked back towards the cash register to look at them one last time before I left. Only problem, no cashier, no Sherlock, no John. I realize quickly that the only reasoning for their disappearance, and it's that they're on a case after all. I sneak into the back room.

"What took you so long, Cameron?" Sherlock asks. I shrug and sit down on an old couch next to John and Sherlock.

"So, please tell us about the disappearance of your co-worker."

"Well, really, I don't know much. She was here, and now she isn't." I don't understand how this could possibly be a murder or a suicide, or anything at all for that matter. What if this coworker's just on vacation? What if a family member just died?

"Did she leave anything behind? Do you have a recent picture?" Sherlock asks, throwing the questions out as if he's fighting to win some kind of match. I'm starting to see why solving these mysteries seems to be a necessity for him.

"The most current thing we have is her working on the security camera…"

"Excellent!" Sherlock jumps of the couch and looks around for the system.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we can't access it without the security code, and the guard's on vacation." I don't know what to think of this whole crime solving thing. I'm not sure if it's my forte. It's not like anything I've ever done before. It's actually a real puzzle. It's not at all like math, where I can just learn, apply, and solve. Crime solving involves more than application, it requires some kind of intuition...and Sherlock, he has it. I decide not to budge in, I'm just going to observe whatever it is he does. Maybe if I can figure it out, I'll be able to do it myself.

For a few minutes, Sherlock stares at the keypad for the computer, supposedly trying to figure out the combo. The worker has left, and John looks as if he is about to fall asleep. Sherlock never takes this long to do anything. John looks at Sherlock and says something I don't understand.

"Sherlock, its not going to be like her phone, I'm sure you'll get it the first try."

Amazingly, these simple words I don't get made Sherlock's fingers move. Before I could even guess any of the numbers he typed, he was in.

"Jolly good," I say, wondering if British people actually say that. Sherlock snickers.

"I like you, Cameron Redgate. It will be sad to see you go…"

"Sherlock!" John says as if Sherlock's comment is actually going to have a bad effect on me. Yes, it is true, one of these days I am going to journey back to America. If only I could stay here forever...

"John."

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Drop the case...this is nothing but a series of affairs. The missing worker, she left to go on vacation with the security man. And to think, I thought that because a worker went missing in a shopping mall this would be so much more...fun."

"Well, I better go and find Mrs. Hudson."


End file.
